


N Is For Nightmares

by SK_Kasai



Series: The A-Z of One Lucifer Morningstar [14]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Chloe Decker Finds Out, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Post-Devil Face Reveal to Chloe Decker, Post-Season/Series 04, Protective Chloe Decker, Season 1, Season 2, but a LOT of angst at first, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23916703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SK_Kasai/pseuds/SK_Kasai
Summary: Lucifer had always suffered from horrible nightmares.He'd always been mostly alone too.It was just how the universe worked untilsheshowed up and love became a real thing.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: The A-Z of One Lucifer Morningstar [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654774
Comments: 47
Kudos: 395





	N Is For Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovely people! Hope you're all safe and well.
> 
> This is actually late because I had to re-write most of it and delete some parts too. The old version was just... too much angst. Like, no one needs to suffer through reading that, thank you very much. I hope this works out a bit better (still pretty angsty, but not as depressing I hope?)
> 
> Credit for this prompt goes to the brilliant Jexxer and frckica.

**_(Before the events of season 1, in the 5 years Lucifer spent in LA...)_ **

_His stars had never looked more harrowing to him._

_Accelerating like that between the dimensions was no fun. His wounds ached. His body pulsed with agony as his skin was eaten away. The flames cocooned him, shining brighter and brighter as he gained more momentum. Would he be seen as a shooting star?_

_That silly thought, originating somewhere in the back of his head, comforted him and scared him at the same time._

_Why didn’t anyone listen?_

_He feared his impeding impact._

_Slowly, all conscious thought was being ripped away from him._

_Slowly, his mind turned into a broken mess of a thing; only managing to repeat “HURTS!” in varying degree of panic and pain._

_Would they come for him? Was this just a demonstration? Was he going to hit the ground somewhere several light years away in his Father’s most fowl creation or was he going to end up back home?_

_Did he even have a home any more?_

_Why wasn’t anyone doing anything?_

_Mum? Michael? Even Amenadiel, the feathered prick, had just stood there. At least Michael had some tears in his eyes._

_Maybe Michael would help him._

_He fell and fell and fell. He was trapped in an endless loop of going down, almost maddened by pain and loss. When he was almost fully convinced that he was going to be stuck like this for the rest of eternity, he hit the ground._

_Falling seemed to be the easy part from there on out._

_He shattered on impact._

_He didn’t know what remained of him; what wasn’t burned off by his descent and by the lake of roaring flames._

_He lay there in the ash, conscious but not quite aware, for what must have been several thousands of years. It was a slow process. Getting his body back…_

_Something inside of him wanted to live though. Something wanted to continue. Something within him, pathetic as he was, immediately began using his eyes to search for any member of his family the moment they were functional again._

_He was pathetic and not stupid though. He knew no one was coming. Eventually, aided by the hardships of hell and the constant company of demons, he learned to squash that pitiful part of him down. Tears were never his thing anyway. Anger, ice-cold or as hot as the lake he was thrust in, were much better._

_The pain. The pain. The pain._

_When it receded a bit though, he could see it._

_Lifting his hand, he saw the mangled, reddish flesh._

_His body… His face…_

_A monster was born out of that lake._

_He’d cried about that one for days._

_The demons had attacked. No one had come for him._

_It hurt. It hurt. It hurt._

_The images blended together. His reality melted away to be replaced by countless memories; of hell and of heaven. He was happily flying in endless fields on unmatched beauty and then he was slamming into burning flames. Sulphur. So much sulphur._

_Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the flames. He burned and he-_

Lucifer woke up screaming.

It had all been too much.

He dreamt that in a long time...

He regarded his empty Penthouse, equally comforted and horrified by the shadows surrounding him. 

Why was he alone again?

He tried to calm down. Lucifer tried to breathe, to remind himself that it was all a stupid dream. He was the devil for the love of everything. The King of Hell. Dreams were not allowed to torture him like so! He was the torturer, not the one on the receiving end of merciless torture.

_He could not calm down._

A scream tore itself from his lips. He jumped off of the bed, grabbing the closest thing to him and smashing it to the floor. The lamp shattered. Glass sprayed his bare feet. He wished that it would cut him; that it would make him feel something other than this all encompassing hurt in every fiber of his being.

A beast was growling within his chest. He could not tame it.

Before he was even aware of what he was doing, Lucifer was smashing everything in sight.

The bookcases tumbled to the ground. Thousands of dollars worth of bottles were destroyed. The table was broken in half then tossed to the wall, almost breaking it too. The couch ended up on the balcony, only barely escaping tumbling off of the raining.

The screams did not stop.

His throat hurt. His muscles ached. The next time he looked down on his hands, they were red. Lucifer looked down, catching his reflection on a huge shard of glass on the floor.

He was a monster.

He clawed at his face, falling into his knees. The screams gave way to heart-wrenching sobs. Blood poured from his face and down his hands.

Lying there amid the chaos and destruction that he had inflicted on his own home, Lucifer found himself wondering if he would ever be free of it all.

Would he ever look at this form and not see a monster? Would he ever close his eyes without being haunted by the atrocities committed against him?

In times like these, he found himself succumbing more and more to the voice in the back of his head telling him that he deserved this. It sounded a bit like Amenadiel sometimes. Other times, Lucifer was sure that it sounded like him or like his Father. Sometimes, he wondered if he'd forgotten his Father's voice all together.

Why didn’t he have company tonight? They always seemed to soothe him. They kept him under control at least. He wouldn’t destroy his Penthouse had they been here. He probably wouldn’t have dreamt like this in the first place.

_Stupid._

Regret was a useless emotion though. He knew as much. Curled up on the floor, _sobbing_ of all things to do, Lucifer wondered where he was heading next. He wasn’t going back to hell. His Father would have to come down and drag him himself or smite him if he wanted him back there. Here, in LA, he was as free as he’d ever been. Every day was a party and every night was another party as well. Then, nights like this one happened and he found himself thrown off balance. He wasn’t half as happy or as free as he pretended to be. If Lucifer admitted that, what could he possibly do to change it?

Nothing.

He was still as much a prisoner of his Father’s as he’d ever been. It just took nights like these to get him to confess that and to break him more and more so in the process.

“Lucifer?”

He cracked his eyes open, wincing when every muscle in his body seemed to protest his movement. Sunlight streamed through the broken windows. Had he been there on the ground all night? Lucifer focused on changing back to his angelic, human-like form, breakdowns and late night admissions be damned. It wasn’t as though Maze had never seen him like this. As a matter of fact, she’d seen him when he was even worse. She was there after all, when the lake and… and…

_Do not think about it._

“Mazikeen.” He greeted, standing up and stretching, more than pleased with his pale skin and normal, handsome features, “This place could use some remodelling.” He laughed, gesturing around to the wrecked Penthouse which managed to look even worse in daytime. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, curt and straightforward. Yet, the King of Hell could detect the worry and the fear underlining her voice, “Was there an attack?”

Worry for him. Ha.

She’d been at some party down town. Lucifer hadn’t felt like going. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d feel less empty and lost had he gone and engaged in his routine debauchery. 

  
“I believe a chap who works in these things owes me a favour.” He continued, heading towards his spacious shower, “Best furniture in LA. Maybe an Italian Leather couch, new coffee table… Oh, and a mahogany desk!”

He rambled on about the adjustments he wanted made until he slammed the shower door shut behind him. He wasn’t feeling up for company just yet, even if it were only his most loyal demon.

He went on with his life, knowing that the emptiness inside could not be filled by any amount of alcohol, sex, or drugs. That didn’t stop him from trying to do just that though.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

_**(Some time during season 2, after "Monster"...)** _

_“No! No! No! No, please-”_

_Uriel just gave him a small, sad smile. Blood glistened on his body. It dribbled from the corner of his pale lips._

_His brother vanished._

_Lucifer stared at his shaking hands, gleaming with crimson. It was his fault. He'd killed his own brother._

_He was nothing more than a monster._

_Monster. Monster. Monster! Monster!_

_He fell through the floor of the church. The world became blue. Ash rained down on him. He could hear the screams of the damned. He was back where he belonged._

_The loop was infinite. Lucifer couldn't remember how he ended up stuck in a cell, but oh well. He was guilty enough for hell to pull him in ever since he..._

_"Uriel, no!"_

_His brother was gone._

_"Uriel!" He screamed, hating himself for how his hand moved on its own, stabbing his little brother with the cursed blade._

_"Uriel!"_

_"Uriel!"_

_"I'm sorry!" He sobbed, hating himself more and more as the masacre played over and over again._

He woke up gasping, gulping in the air as though he had been drowning. 

Lucifer fled his bed and headed straight to his bar, needing several bottles of scotch to wash the taste of ash and sulphur from his mouth. The smell of brimstone lingered in his nose. No amount of cologne seemed to get it to completely fade away.

Lucifer sighed and headed back to his couch, several bottles and decanters in hand. He disposed of them next to him, a bit appalled at his carelessness but grateful that none of them broke. One by one, he drowned their contents, eyes tightly screwed shut against the constant flood of nightmarish memories.

_“Please, Uriel, I’m sorry. Please, come back. Uriel!”_

The expensive bottle, now empty, shattered in his hand. Lucifer stared at the shards, mesmerized. Sometimes, such chaos and disaster brought peace to the chaos and disaster residing deep within his soul.

It made no sense, but who was he to judge what brought him comfort? He should probably cherish it and relish in it.

Around the third bottle, feeling a slight buzz, Lucifer yelped.

Glass shards embedded themselves in his fingers. Blood flowed down his hands. Lucifer dropped the rest of the mess on the floor, staring at his hand in awe and contempt.

Was the Detective nearby?

“Lucifer! What the hell?”

He groaned, falling back into the couch and closing his eyes.

Of course she was here.

“Why did you break the bottle like that?” She demanded, suddenly next to him, taking his hands in hers to examine them. Lucifer flinched, pulling his hands away. She mumbled a soft apology, looking at him with an expression so tender that it made him want to weep.

Monsters didn't deserve kindness.

“I didn’t expect you to materialize from thin air like that, Detective.” He answered, getting up to head to the bathroom. He had one of his silk robes on and nothing else, but it was undone. Chances are, he’d probably flashed the Detective. Again. What was it with that woman and resisting his charms? He hadn’t meant to do this this time, seeing as the robe was the only thing he put on after tossing away his party-ruined outfit an hour or so ago and falling asleep on the couch. He hadn't meant to sleep either. Had the party worn him out that much? She didn’t even comment though.

“Lucifer, are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine, Detective!” He called out, grinning when she didn’t follow, “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, darling, but what brings you here?”

“We have a new case. I've been calling you for hours. I got worried.” She told him, “Are you drunk?”

“No. Why?”

“Lucifer I just watched you gulp down a bottle of ridiculously expensive scotch like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Supernatural celestial metabolism. Pesky little thing.” He sighed, watching blood getting washed down the drain, hearing her explosive sigh at his antics, “I’ll have a shower, get dressed, and we can go check the new case out?”

She'd probably send him back home if he showed any signs of being inebriated. Lucifer was glad that that would not happen. He needed her close to him. He wanted nothing more than her company. The devil could not stomach the idea of being alone at the moment either.

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” The Detective nodded, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Why did she even care?

Lucifer wished that she would stop.

She would never understand his pain. Sometimes, being around her hurt on its own. It was a horrible conundrum because being away from her somehow hurt even more. He needed her away though. For her own good. No way he was going to let his Father get away with manipulating someone as good and as perfect as the Detective.

Later, while they were on their way to the precinct in her boring cruiser, the concerned looks she kept casting him began to become too much. Just how much did she see? Lucifer had no idea when she’d walked in.

“You’re probably sick of me saying this...” She sighed, giving him a small, sheepish smile, “But I’m here for you, Lucifer, okay? Anything you need. Anything I can help with. Just let me know...”

He just nodded, giving her a tiny smile of his own.

This was too real for his taste.

He was the devil. He was alone. He’d always been, and would always be, alone. It was what he deserved anyway. Lying to himself and trying to believe that the Detective could ever be there for him… That would not do anyone any good. He was poison to her, just like he was poison to anyone else.

_Poison of God. Ha._

“You know, Detective,” He found himself saying, a sly grin playing at his lips, “there is one thing you can help with.”

“Oh?”

He almost felt bad for the way her eyes lit up, eager to help him.

“Is the whole work buddies who hang around naked after work thing really off the table?”

When she glared at him, chuckling and reprimanding him, Lucifer could relax again.

There. Balance restored.

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

_**(In the cursed month when Lucifer was basically having a month-long mental breakdown and Chloe was off in Rome doing you-know-what...)** _

_“You’re a monster!” She cried, “Lucifer! Lucifer, get away from us!”_

_“Detective, please!” He pleaded, “Detective!”_

_In Cain’s bloody loft, the Detective backed away, dragging the urchin with her. The little human was crying, horrified at the sight of him (as everyone would and should be)_

_Lucifer had no idea when she showed up. He couldn’t switch back either._

_“Detective, I am still myself. Same old me.” He reasoned, giving her a broken smile, “Your partner. Y-your friend. You said so yourself! Countless times!”_

_“I was wrong!” She screamed, shaking, holding her daughter close, “You lied to me! I can’t believe I allowed you to trick me!”_

_“Detective, no...” His world was falling apart, their tears and horror hurting him more than anything else could, “Spawn...”_

_“No!” The little girl cried, “Mommy! Help!”_

_In the blink of an eye, her gun was pointed at him. Lucifer was crying too. He wished she would shoot him. It wasn’t like life would be worth living after her._

_Of course, she didn’t._

_He watched the barrel of the gun shake, waiting the inevitable jolt of agony. He’d end up back in hell, where he deserved. His Father would win and he would lose. Just like always. Nothing had changed in the past several millennia. Nothing was going to change in the next ones either._

_“Do it, Detective.” He relented._

_She kept the gun pointed at him, backing away, taking the urchin with her._

_“Detective, don’t go!”_

_“Stay back!” She ordered, “Lucifer, stay where you are!”_

_And then they were gone._

_Lucifer wished she would have shot him._

_Her face. Their faces._

_If the two best people in creation thought that he was a monster... If they couldn't accept him..._

_No one could and no one probably should._

_He fell to his knees, clawing at his disgusting face. The world melted into nothing but his pain and his screams._

This time, when he woke up, there was no one to find him.

No Mazikeen and no Detective. No party and no orgie. No one at all. He was alone, just as he was seemingly destined to be.

When he wrecked his Penthouse that night, there was no one there to question it. Lucifer didn’t bleed either. The bottles smashed in his hands but the skin remained unblemished. The knives bent and broke against his skin. Everything shattered. He didn’t feel a thing; numb on the outside almost as much as he was on the inside.

This was hell (trust him, he would know)

When nothing hurt him, painfully reminding him that the one creature who made him vulnerable was far, far away, Lucifer decided that it would be safe to break down.

She was not coming back.

His Father knew that he was weak. Besides, Lucifer didn’t care. On the off chance that He was watching him, He could enjoy the pleasure of observing how His little miracle plan went. This was the whole point of this wasn’t it?

But he was broken long before the Detective abandoned him. Lucifer just never admitted it. Not even to himself. Not unless this sort of thing happened and he rarely allowed it to happen much in the first place. Personally, he preferred the invulnerable façade everyone got to see. No one hated this pathetic side of him more than he did after all. 

He made his way to his phone, always on and fully charged. For just a second, he allowed himself to have hope.

When he saw that there were no new messages from her, not since that unfortunate day anyway, Lucifer found it safe to allow himself to fall apart just this one night.

It wasn’t like anyone would know or care, right?

_***cries in Deckerstar*** _

_**(Some time during a happy, peaceful Deckerstar future season 5 would HOPEFULLY not rob from us...)** _

She couldn’t understand what he was saying.

Truthfully, she wasn’t even sure why she woke up until she traced the whimpering and the whispering to him. Slowly, she shifted out of his arms, the haze of sleep fleeing her at an accelerated pace.

He was breaking her heart.

Drenched in sweat, shaking, and pleading fervently, he might have as well been the picture of suffering. In every line of his scrunched up face and every syllable of his weird mutterings, she could detect a newer level of pain. 

All in all, it hurt to watch.

Lucifer didn’t sleep too much. Apparently, Celestials were superior to humans in that department. He had his moments though and he hated waking up in the early morning almost as much as he loved waking up at the crack of dawn. Nothing could ever make sense with him and somehow she loved him all the more for it. 

However, aside from being the cuddliest person she’d ever met and snoring a bit like a faulty, old chainsaw sometimes, Lucifer was a peaceful sleeper. To see him like this…

“Lucifer...” Chloe began gently, shaking his shoulder and pushing his curls away from his eyes, “Lucifer, babe, wake up. You’re having a bad dream… Come on now, Lucifer...”

It took him quite some time to wake up; long enough in fact to get her to seriously worry. When he did, he let out an aborted yell, his mutterings increasing as his eyes darting around the room like those of a horrified, cornered, abused animal.

“Lucifer, you’re okay.” She coaxed, holding her hands up placatingly, “You’re alright. You’re home and I’m here with you. You're safe. I can’t understand what you’re saying, but you need to wake up now.”

Finally, his eyes cleared. He blinked once, focusing on her, staring as though he couldn’t understand how she could possibly exist.

“Detective?” He whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Yeah, it’s me.” She smiled, reaching over to put her hand on his thigh. He flinched and backed further into the headboard.

“S-sorry.” Lucifer managed to grind out, screwing his eyes shut in some vain attempt to somehow stop the full-body tremors he was suffering through at the moment.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” She told him, honest and sincere, wishing she could touch him to convey that.

“I woke you up.” Lucifer sighed, “That usually doesn’t happen. Apologies, Detective.”

Usually doesn’t happen?

“Lucifer, I don’t care about being up. I care about you.” She bit her lip, already dreading the next part of their conversation, “How often do you have nightmares?”

She’d seen him have a few. Perhaps two or three of them. Usually, she’d just cuddle him or talk to him until he fell asleep again, safe in her arms. 

“Detective, what difference does that make?”

Translation: A LOT of nightmares.

Where had she been? Had he been suffering next to her without her noticing? Had she just slept on while he battled demons brought on the millennia-long horror show that was his impossible life?

Chloe felt horrible.

“They’re always better when I sleep here though.” Lucifer confessed, his eyes downcast, shy and ashamed, “Next to you, Detective. They’re rarely quite as… jarring as this one is as well. Tonight is a fluke for the most part, I suppose.”

“Oh, Lucifer...” She gave him a small, sad smile, “Anything I can do to help?”

“As I’ve said, Detective, your presence is more than help enough.” He repeated, frowning, wondering if there was a way that she was misunderstanding him, “I never used to sleep this much, concerned about these... nightmares. You though... I can't thank you enough for this, you know.”

“Thank me?”

“For doing… this.” He gestured around them, to her, to him, to the wrinkled covers currently between them.

Chloe did not follow.

Her confusion must have been apparent on her face because Lucifer sighed and look around, scanning the darkened room in hopes of finding something that could magically make her understand his point of view. When that proved to be a failure, the devil struggled with himself for a moment, his mouth opening and closing several times. Immediately, she knew that whatever he was going to say next was going to be incredibly emotional. Hate it as she might, tears might be in her near future.

“For… _loving_ me, darling.” He whispered at last, “The _devil._ For accepting me. For letting me into your life and your house and your heart. That is no small feat, Detective, and for that I shall forever remain grateful.”

Yup. There it was.

“Can I hug you?” She choked out, feeling wrong with all the distance between them.

“Oh, yes, of course you can.” Lucifer laughed, “I enjoy every single touch you bestow upon me, Detective, and really-”

She flew into his arms, almost knocking him over. Lucifer chuckled, enveloping her in his hug, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“One day, you’ll get all emotional, Lucifer, and I won’t end up on the verge of tears.” She promised, words slightly muffled from where her face was pressed to his bare shoulder. It was just so hard... Ever since he came back, their relationship had undergone a drastic change. It was all for the better. Neither of them could recall ever being this happy. However, times like these, when they were faced with all the pain either of them was carrying...

“I look forward to that day.” Lucifer declared, stroking her back, the awkwardness almost visibly melting away from his actions, “I hate seeing you cry, you know. Besides, as much as Doctor Linda tries to explain why you people burst into tears any time I express… these sorts of feelings to you, I find myself even more lost. All the more reason to keep these things secret, if you ask me.”

“Lucifer.” She groaned, “No secrets. You’re allowed to express all your emotions, sappy things included. You can’t just live off of anger, boredom, and lust. Besides, that’s what we’re _supposed_ to do.”

“Supposed to do?”

“Lovers.” She clarified, pulling away from his embrace to cup his cheek with her hand, stroking a thumb over the dark circles under his eyes, “I love you. Hence, I help you with these sorts of things.”

Lucifer's face lit up at her declaration. It did every single time she told him those particular three words. Chloe didn’t think she could get sick of it, even after all this time. It was adorable, albeit a little bit heart-breaking.

Here was a man, a devil, so surprised by anyone loving him that he still had a hard time believing it. Just how hurt did you have to be to warrant a reaction like that?

“And I you, Detective.” He grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She whispered when they were both lying down again, snug and comfortable under the covers and in each other’s arms.

“No.” He answered simply, snuggling in deeper to the crook of her neck.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

He didn’t say anything to that for a long time.

“Lucifer?”

“I was intending to leave once you dropped off to sleep, darling.” He confessed, “I don’t think I want to try sleeping again just yet.”

“Lucifer...” She sighed, carding a hand through his hair, relishing the way he relaxed and groaned due to the simple touch, “You look exhausted. You’ve been looking exhausted for a few days now. Even _Dan_ has noticed. Have you been having these nightmares a lot?”

“It’s almost the date again, love.” Lucifer whispered as if that was the only explanation that she would need.

The date?

What could he be talking about?

“The balcony.” Lucifer clarified, beyond uncomfortable.  
Oh.

“So, you’re dreaming of hell?”

“Sometimes.” He admitted at last, surprising her, “Other times, I dream of… you. Not in a good way though.” He chortled, trying to mask the agony dripping from every syllable, “Hell was...”

“You’re here now.” Chloe assured him, hugging him tighter, wondering if there was anything for her to do with this. How could she help him?

"I don't know what to do when you..." He gulped, shaking his head.

"Don't." She whispered softly, knowing what he was referring to and dreading it herself.

"Detective..."

"Shhhh." She stroked his back again, "We have to focus on the present, Lucifer, okay? We'll figure out the rest later."

Lucifer didn't say anything for a long time.

She resumed her routine of comforting him, relaxing herself. Half an hour or so must have passed before her lover began to snore softly. She smiled at his slumbering form, peaceful and innocent. Chloe traced the dried tear tracks on his cheeks with her thumb, eventually managing to press a chaste kiss to his lips and another one to his forehead.

"I love you." She told him, "That's gotta be enough for now, alright? Everything can wait."

Lucifer slept on, calm in her embrace.

She was glad. Lucifer, of all people, deserved all the good in the world. He was selfish but he was also clueless about just how badly life had been cruel to him. He was blind to his worth and ignorant of how he deserved and needed love.

She would fix that for him though.

She would show him love and teach him affection. She would prove to him just how "worth it" he was. She would be there for him after every single damn nightmare and every bad thing he would have to suffer through.

That's what love, their love at least, was all about after all.

Chloe smiled and closed her eyes.


End file.
